


so i choke on sun

by outruntheavalanche



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: First Time, First Time Hand Jobs, Hand Jobs, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, weariness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-17 18:37:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15467535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outruntheavalanche/pseuds/outruntheavalanche
Summary: He’d much rather stay here, in the sanctuary of Wicket’s hut, with Lando.





	so i choke on sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smaragdbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/gifts).



> Written for [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/profile)[**smaragdbird**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/) for [](https://raremaleslashex.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**raremaleslashex**](https://raremaleslashex.dreamwidth.org/). We got matched on the Rogue One pairing, but I ended up writing some Luke/Lando instead. Hope you like this! 
> 
> Thanks to [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/profile)[**blastellanos**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/) for the readthrough! 
> 
> Title from "Welcome Home," by Radical Face.

Luke can still hear the celebration raging on just beyond the thick walls of Wicket’s thatched hut. It’s been going on for hours now, and when he glances out the little window, he can see the sky lightening in the distance. He’s carved out a tiny space for himself amongst the pallets and straw mattresses and, though the quarters are far too close and cramped, Luke is grateful for Ewok generosity right about now.

He hadn’t been able to take much more of the revelry before departing for Wicket’s hut for a moment of private reflection and contemplation (or so he’d said).

Yes, Luke was happy they’d been victorious but he can’t help but find the idea of celebrating the death of his father intolerable.

Only Luke had been there when his father saved his life. Even Leia—with whom he shared a special, psychic bond—had had a hard time listening to Luke’s recounting their father’s final moments. Luke hoped she’d finally be able to forgive him but some wounds just ran too deep. Leia’s eyes had flashed in the dark when Luke asked her if she could ever forgive their father for his crimes—or maybe it had been the fireworks exploding overhead. Whatever the case, he’d quickly apologized to her and retreated to the hut.

Now, Luke can’t turn his brain off long enough to catch even just a few minutes of sleep.

Luke sighs and laces his fingers over his chest and stares up at the ceiling where the thatched roof meets in a point.

There’s a gentle knock on the door, so soft Luke thinks he imagined it at first. A few moments later, there’s another rap on the door.

“Come on in,” Luke says, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the mattress. He finds his boots and shoves his feet into them, strapping them up.

Everything in his body aches, from his muscles to his joints to his bones right down to the stuff inside. The stuff that makes Luke _Luke_.

The door creaks open and Lando pokes his head in. He’s grinning broadly, his forehead damp with sweat, and his curls cling to the sides of his face. He lifts his hand, holding up a cup of booze Luke can smell across the room.

“Taking off on us so soon?” Lando asks, slipping in and shutting the door quietly behind him. His smile falters, but only a bit, before it snaps right back into place. “What’s the matter, kid?”

“Nothing’s the matter,” Luke says, but he can tell right away that Lando doesn’t believe him.

Lando crosses the room in two big strides and offers the cup to Luke. “Maybe some freshly brewed Ewok rum’ll cheer you up,” he says.

Dark amber liquid sloshes over the side and soaks into the earthen floor. Luke half expects the stuff to burn a hole in the ground.

Luke takes the cup gingerly and leans in, wincing at the strong, caustic odor. “Smells like bantha spit,” he says, but he downs it in one gulp anyway.

“Attaboy.” Lando sounds proud. He takes the cup back and crosses his arms over his chest. “You ever gonna answer my question?”

Luke rubs his thumb between his eyebrows. “I’d prefer not to,” he says.

Lando sighs and moves closer, sitting next to Luke on the mattress. “It’s all right, kid.”

Luke isn’t sure what to say to that. It’s not all _all right_ , but he finds himself wanting to agree with Lando anyway. Luke doesn’t want to think about his father—or the fact he hasn’t yet told Leia all that occurred the night before. He told her the bare bones: their father saved him from Palpatine, giving up his life in the process, but that’s all. Leia’s been distracted—by Han and the Endor victory celebration and her looming responsibilities—and Luke can sense a part of her that burns with righteous anger toward their father.

He’d much rather stay here, in the sanctuary of Wicket’s hut, with Lando.

Lando squeezes Luke’s shoulder gently. “I mean, I know it’s not _all right_ , but…” Lando trails off, letting his hand slip away from Luke’s shoulder.

“I understand what you mean,” Luke says, looking over at Lando.

Luke looks down at Lando’s thick callused hands, which rest over the knees of his trousers. Luke can tell just from tracing his eyes over the calluses across Lando’s knuckles in the dim, flickering light that he’s worked hard in his life.

He wonders what those hands would feel like on his skin. He doesn’t try to push the thought away this time, like he usually does. Jedi aren’t meant to form emotional attachments—he’s constantly reminded that passion had been his father’s greatest downfall—but Luke is _tired_. He’s Anakin’s son—Vader’s son—and he knows he’ll never escape the shadow his father casts across the far reaches of the galaxy, but just tonight he wants to be Luke again. The naïve farmboy who had no idea what was waiting for him beyond the twin suns of Tatooine. The farmboy whose biggest concern was getting off the dustball he called home to experience life.

Luke has always liked Lando. He reminds him of people he grew up with on Tatooine. People like Biggs, Wedge, Deak, Fixer, Camie. Luke thinks he and Lando would have been fast friends had Lando kicked dust with the rest of them on Tatooine. 

Lando leans in then and Luke feels his warm breath—laced with a hint of Ewok rum—brushing across his lips. Luke meets him halfway and presses their lips together, his hand groping across the mattress for Lando’s.

Lando’s rough fingers close around Luke’s hand and squeeze gently as he kisses him back, his tongue pressing between his lips. Luke parts his lips and welcomes Lando in, bringing a hand up to curl in his hair.

The celebration rages on beyond the walls of Wicket’s hut, but Luke can hardly hear it but for the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears and the soft noises Lando makes as Luke pushes him back against the mattress.

Luke looks down at him, a hand resting on his chest. “Do you… Are you sure?” he asks, feeling silly. Luke’s never done anything like this before—never felt brave enough to act on _these_ instincts—but Lando’s probably had lovers before.

He nods up at Luke. “Long as you want to, kid,” Lando says, rubbing his thumb over Luke’s knuckles.

“Okay.” Luke leans down and kisses him again, his hands going to the buttons on Lando’s blouse.

He makes short work of Lando’s top and trousers, and then he shimmies out of his own clothes. They lie down together. Lando runs his rough hands over Luke’s bare skin like it’s something to be cherished. Like touching Luke is a privilege he’s been granted. Luke doesn’t know if Lando truly feels that way about him, or if this is just a diversion, but he feels special. He hopes Lando feels as special as he’s making Luke feel right now.

“Here,” Lando says, bringing a hand up and spitting into his palm. “Have you done this before?”

Luke shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. “A few times,” he lies.  

Lando looks skeptical but he only nods, and Luke is grateful he chooses not to call him out on the lie. He wraps his damp hand around both their cocks as he rolls his hips and slides against Luke. Luke grabs onto his shoulder at the intensity and squeezes his eyes shut. He wonders if it’ll always be this _bright_ and _loud_ in his mind every time, because he’s a Force-user, or if it’s just that way because it’s the first time.

Lando moves his hand slowly over them and leans in, pressing his mouth against Luke’s bare shoulder.

“Like that?” he mumbles into his skin.

“Yeah,” Luke mutters, clutching some more at Lando’s shoulder.

“Good.” Lando starts moving his fist over them even faster, then pauses for a moment to spit into his palm again. He replaces his hand around their cocks and resumes stroking them.

Luke bites on the inside of his cheek as Lando keeps working his hand over them. Lando sucks gently on the slope of Luke’s neck where it meets his shoulder, his hair scratching pleasantly against Luke’s cheek. Luke slides an arm around his shoulders and holds him close.

Soon, the only thing that’s on his mind is Lando. Everything else fades away, into background noise. All the doubt and worries and grief that had weighed so heavily on him just a few hours, a few minutes earlier have been worked out like knots under the skin.

Lando coaxes Luke’s orgasm out of him a few minutes later when he slides down Luke’s torso and licks at his cock. Luke comes with a surprised shout that he fails to muffle, and then Lando finishes himself off in his fist with his face pressed into Luke’s neck.

They lay there tangled up on the mattress, panting, wet and dripping. They should wash themselves up and rejoin the celebration that’s still going on outside. Somehow, rejoining the others doesn’t sound as daunting as it did earlier in the evening.  

Lando rolls onto his back and sits up slowly. “You good, kid?”

“Great,” Luke says, sitting up and rubbing his hand through his damp, sweaty hair.

Lando rubs his back in slow circles. “Good.”

Luke leans in and rests his head on Lando’s shoulder. He feels Lando lean his head against Luke’s, and they sit there for a little while longer, watching the shadowy shapes of their friends and loved ones dancing in the distance to the pounding of drums.


End file.
